Private Tales A Secret of The Dunes

[Aidenzak]

The Amol-Kalit desert was as expansive as it was cruel. As beutiful as it was chaotic. One could easily find themselves lost in those endless sands. Sands that created a sea of the unknown that could be unearhed at any moment as the winds shifted the sands. One tall dune in particular looked like nothing special. A bit of a pain to walk over, but nothing more than that. Though unlike the dunes around it, this mountain had remained the same, In the shifting sea around it, this hill of sand was a constant. Yet for centuries, no one had noticed. After all...what was but one pile of sand amongst many?

Then it happened. The breeze changed to a whirlwind within a single night. A whirlwind that blew away the sands and flattened the dunes around it. The skies did not tell of this disaster, yet the storm struck anyways. By the time it was over, the dune that had been constant for all that time was gone. In it's place was an ancient temple of sand elven design, the marble it had been made from long degraded to sandstone from it's time below the surface. It was a small temple, only about the size of a small hut. Yet amongst the featurless landscapes around it, the temple would stand out like a beacon calling to any traveller that had it in their line of sight. A beacon that would lead one inside to hide in the shade from the cruel sun, and perhaps take the stairway in the middle of the temple that led to the underground tomb.

VigiloConfido

 

[Jane]

It always started with a whisper, an impulse, a little nagging feeling that just seemed to tug in a certain direction and eventually bothered the shit out of the Jane if she happened to try to go in any other.

This time, it pointed her west. Very far to the west. She thought initially that Astra wanted her to circle back around to Alliria for some kind of menial task or another there, but no, even further west than that. Which was, as it so happened, something of a surprise. Whether by accident or design, most of Jane's time spent as one of "the Redeemed" had her situated squarely on Epressa—which was to say, as far as could be from the waters of the Cortosi Coast and the Black Bay that she had once called home (and, truthfully, still did). What a rare treat then, to cross over one of Alliria's many bridges and to step foot on the soil of Liadain once again.

She was, of course, disabused of any notion that this was anything other than yet another dutiful calling from her Celestial—

(slavemaster)

—patron. Before she had departed from Alliria proper, a small group of other Redeemed paladins met up with her. Not Be'sennar the Redeemer himself, nor any of his actual paladins, no. Ones like Jane. Which meant that at least some of them were fun to be around. A couple were doggedly on Astra's straight and narrow, wholly repentant and awfully full of themselves for it. But there was a former gambler, a guy who kept idly snapping his fingers as if he were hearing in his head some bard's catchy tune, and he apparently wagered life and limb to stay in a game (not his own, of course); there was a former prostitute, a handsome man (certainly it had helped in his old profession) who had let all of his male clients live and murdered all of his female ones; and lastly, there was the former drunkard, an orc who was freakishly strong and big even for his own kind, and when he got drunk...suffice it to say the Dark Ones were pretty pleased.

The six of them, Jane included, rode west.

And west.

And west until the flats and plains of the Savannah gave way to the sands of Amol-Kalit.

On one particular night in the desert, the welcome breeze graduated into the breath of Drakon himself. Jane already had her armor off and her arming dress folded down to the waist, exposing her bare back in preparation for a session of self-flagellation, when the winds hit. Her tent was half-uprooted before she knew it, poles and canvas fluttering about in the gale. With one arm about her breasts (gotta make sure the batten those down first, sailor), Jane when staggering against the wind into the Redeemed's collective campsite.

She saw the drunkard. Stumbled over to him as sand and wind sliced against her flesh. "Get the horses!"

"What??" The big orc cupped a hand over his ear and leaned down toward her.

"The horses! So they don't run a—"

That was really the last thing Jane remembered. The rest all became a blur of motion, all founded on the sentiment of Fuck this! when the sandstorm reached its peak. Her foremost thought had become the search for some small measure of shelter against the storm, a defilade on the downslope of one of the dunes if nothing else.

At first light, it was just Jane at the campsite. Somehow the rest of her "brother" and "sister" Redeemed (can you hear the sarcasm?) had been scattered elsewhere. Hm. She'd miss three of them, and the other two could go sit on a pike. She collected her armor, her weapons, and kept moving.

It didn't take all that long this day for her to notice the structure uncovered by yesternight's storm. A small thing, at least on the surface, but it stood in stark relief to the sand all around it. And, as she looked at it, she noticed distinctly that that little nagging feeling in her heart had gone away.

"So this is it, huh," she mused to herself. And then she smirked. "All this anticipation. I was wanting something a bit...bigger."

Nevertheless, Jane approached the temple. She stepped inside the open doorway, basking in the shade and taking a moment to lean against the sandstone and relax. She rustled her hair again, and still sand went cascading out. Pfft. Astra just couldn't have led her to an oasis so she could wash off all of last night's sand, huh? That shit just got everywhere and it was awful.

A look to the stairs. Jane blew some irritated air from the side of her mouth.

And she descended them.

Aidenaxk Drazukel

 

[Aidenzak]

She would instantly find that the underbelly of the temple is much bigger than what emerged from above the sands. Where the other part had been buried with time, this part of the temple was fully underground, built into the rock and stone of it's surroundings. There were no torches on the walls. Instead, near the ceiling, there were floating orang orbs of energy that bathed the room in a warm light similar to that of the evening sun. It would allow Jane to see the hieroglyphs that lined the walls. These however, did not speak a language. They told a story. The murals showed a hero leading an army against...something. It was drawn as an indescribable black mass of tentacles everywhere that it appeared. The hero was depicted as a typical pharaoh, but with strange orange tendril esque hair. Perhaps some sort of crown? It was hard to tell due to the lack of detail. The wall was covered with various murals of this orange being's story, ranging from a lone child in the middle of a judgemental crowd, crying as no one offers it aid, to that same being standing upon a pedestal and speaking to an army.

There were also assorted treasures that one would expect to find when explorin a tomb. Golden vases, gem encrusted scarabs indented into the wall, even a few piles of gold coins that served as the currency of the time.

Near the end of the room was two anaphite statues. One had a glaive while the other had a battleaxe. As all dormant anaphite were, it was easy to just mistake them for statues. Especially for those who lacked the proper knowledge. Between them was a glimmering sarcohpogus of gold, though the design seemed atypical, as the head of the sarcophogus seemed to have tendrils carved into it's surface. Unfortunately, the anaphite didn't remain statues for long. Once Jane passed a certain threshold within the room, the eyes od the statues begin glowing. Stone turned into black skin once more as they came to life, rapidly approaching her as the entrance of the tomb was closed by some sort of mechanism.

They would begin approaching her, weapons raised to eliminate the intruder...then they suddenly stop, pausing to speak in the unknown language of their kind. After coming to some sort of conclusion, they step aside and stand at attention, taking a moment to point their weapons at the sarcophogus. After that, they went inert again, unresponsive. They hadn't turned to stone again, but they also had nothing to say.

The door to the outside had yet to open again. It seems Jane had no choice but to approach the sarcophogus.

Jane

 

[Jane]

Jane stopped for a moment in front of the murals. The nagging call to action from Astra which had guided Jane (and the other, now lost, Redeemed) out to the desert had, as always, been little more than a vague feeling. A tug on the mind that didn't explain much, and only conveyed a direction and a gnawing urgency like an itch that needed more and more to be scratched. This mural, however, gave Jane at least some idea of what she might be doing here.

Look at that beautiful black mass of tentacles fighting against some worldly hero with a floppy hat! She didn't think too much on it, not wanting to prompt a reset from Astra, but it would have been nice if that black mass was imprisoned here in this ruin and she was here to set it free.

Imagine that. Being free.

Jane continued on. Past the glimmering treasures still unpillaged and resting as they may for hundreds if not thousands of years. Some of her fellow Sisters of the Citadel placed a hefty helping of stock on gold, but Jane didn't care all that much for it. Alright, a little, but not much. Her most prized treasures came invariably in shades of red.

Then came the statues at the end of underground corridor. Inanimate decor putting on the display of guarding the sarcophagus between them...until they weren't. Inanimate, that is. All of a sudden they became a hell of a lot better at the guarding part.

Jane drew her sword and hopped back a couple steps (cursing, once again, Be'sennar the Redeemer for having her sabatons forged with heels just to spite her). Her gazed darted between the two mobile once-stonework guardians. A small (and not at all nervous, of course not) smile came to her lips. "Alright gentlemen...maybe we could do this one at a time?"

They suddenly stopped. Spoke in an unknown tongue.

"Huh. I didn't think you two would be so catering."

They each stood aside. Pointed their enormous weapons at the sarcophagus.

Somewhat warily, Jane sheathed her weapon. "Well. Maybe next time, boys."

Not one to turn down what appeared to be a fluke of good luck, Jane—albeit cautiously—started to walk forward. Slow by the guardians at first, then fast, practically skipping the last few steps to bring her into proximity of the sarcophagus. She eyed it for a brief few seconds, wondering if whoever or whatever was inside would have the power to reanimate like its very own guardians did.

"Yooouuu~ brought me here. So, whatever's in here, this is yooouuur~ doing," Jane mused aloud to you-know-who.

Then she touched the lid. With one hand. With both hands.

And began to push.

Aidenaxk Drazukel

 

[Aidenzak]

Upon her fingers touching it, Jane would hear some sort of mechanism click, and the coffin lid would slide with barely any resistance to her pushing. The lid eventually falls off of the coffin and hits the floor with a stony crackle as it breaks apart. Even shaped stone could get old. However, her attention would likely no longer be on the lid at this point.

The first thing she would notice? What she saw in the murals earlier was not a floppy hat. In fact, there never was a hat. Before her was a being erased from history. The likes of which had not been seen for eons. The body looked humanoid in terms of structure, though the skin was strangely colored. Hues of yellow and orange, with hints of blue. It could easily be described is irridescent. The colors changing depending upon the lighting and angle she looked upon the being befoe her. The major difference was the head. A pretty face, to be sure, but with a head of tendrils that seemed to take the place of hair. Upon closer inspection, the two front tentacles that hunt over the shoulders had gills on the sides of them. Around the forehead area, there were sprouts of small horns which continued into the beginning of the tendrils..

The figure was dressed in ancient robes and jewelry. Golden and silver bracelets, rings upon the head horns, two golden rings on the front tentacles. A golden choker. Even a necklace of seemingly magic glowing crystals. Not a single finger was without rings, and it was obvious the coat was made from the finest furs and leathers of the time. Whoever this creature was, they weren't poor.

The most baffling part of it all? The being was still breathing. Though it had yet to wake up. Maybe it was a heavy sleeper?

Jane

 

[Jane]

Jane cocked her head. Said slowly, "What...do we have...here?"

This was the right place. All of those vague feelings Astra used to guide her might have been just that—vague—but they weren't ever wrong. Despite Jane's best efforts, no amount of casual drinking and wild nights ever seemed to throw off the needle of Astra's compass—even the best efforts of the desert itself failed. So, yeah, this was it, this dusty old ruin was the destination alright.

So Jane had expected something in the sarcophagus, some treasure or artifact or the like, that the Redeemer would have gotten stiff over.

Not what—or rather, whom—she actually found. It was almost, almost, like one of the beings the Sisters of the Citadel were known to summon for select...hmm...visitations.

And this being was still alive.

Jane glanced back and up at the Guardian Statues. Smirked, and said in mock chastising fashion, "Neither one of you could have at least gotten a pillow for him?"

Back to the being in the sarcophagus. With a lingering sense of incredulity, she slid off one of her gauntlets and hovered her bare hand over his mouth and nose, feeling the light touch of breath against her palm and confirming, yes, in fact, he'd been sleeping in here for Astra-knows-how-long.

"Hm. Tight quarters here, sailor."

Aidenaxk Drazukel

 

[Aidenzak]

The strange being's hand suddenly moves to catch her wrist by pure reflex as it gets close to her face, and it's eyelids open, revealing orange eyes that seem to almost glow, with black sclera that matches the makeup under his eyes. "Sailor? Hm. I wouldn't say so. the sea and I don't really get along." It states with a wide grin, showing off sharp sharklike teeth. It's voice is interesting, even toned. Not too deep, not too high. It only made the squidlike creature's gender all the more indiscernable.

Not matter the paladin's reaction, the being casually sits up, reaching it's arms upwards in a stretch while arching it's spine. A few cracks can be heard as bones and muscles stretch for the first time in eons. Whatever this creature is, it doesn't seem to be groggy or tired in the slightest. In fact, it seems content, happy even. Though after sleeping for so long, that could be an understandable emotion to have. Once done stretching, it vaults out of the sarcophogus, eyes drifting about the room. "Hm. There were windows here before. Covered in sand I presume?" It queries to Jane while beginning to walk around the tomb, observinf everything present while giving it's legs some much needed exercise.

Once it was satisfied, it made it's way over to the coffin and pulled out what seemed to be some sort of old curved blade. It was slightly curved. Records in libraries would indicate that such blades were known as katanas. It unsheathes the blade to look it over. "Could have fared worse. I'll need to get a new one forged soon..." With an artful twirl, the sword is once again in it's sheath. Finally, it's attention turns to Jane, looking her up and down. "The art of armorsmithing has become...more sophisticated." It, if allowed, knocks on the chest of the armor. "They weren't always able to sculpt room for...well. Those. So, Blondie. Mind telling me the year?" It questions, idly brushing a tendril behind it's shoulder in the same manner one would fwip their hair.

"Oh, and I don't have a mirrir." It begins feeling around it's face. "Did I age at all? I shouldn't have. Do I look alright? Are there any wrinkles? Please tell me there aren't wrinkles-."

Jane

 

[Jane]

Jane flinched—simply couldn't help it—when the being resting inside the sarcophagus snatched her wrist. It was her swordhand, and her sword was inconveniently in its sheath. She did have her shield, and while blunt pain was to Jane just so paltry in comparison to more exquisite forms of pain she could cause, oh darn, desperate times called for unsatisfying measures.

The immediate moment after proved, however, that no shield bashes were needed.

Jane just watched with a kind of smiling anticipation as the being rose from the sarcophagus and stretched. Astra was never too forthcoming with the details on anything, at least not to a filthy Redeemed like Jane, so her imagination, with all the dark delights it could conjure, always stepped in. Never was she right though, and probably her wandering thoughts prompted resets often enough (not that she would precisely remember).

So...what did she have here? Like all the times before her imagination wasn't quite on the mark with this place, the sacrophagus, and the being himself. Himself? Herself? Whatever. That only mattered if she got to have a little fun. Pain was pain, but the groans and cries and screams of men were oh so more melodious to her ears—females were just too easy to make suffer in her experience.

Better get off of that line of thought before she got reset.

A lot of questions from the brightly-colored tentacle being. Jane would probably be the same in his position; she asked a fair few herself whenever she was hungover after getting blackout drunk. Then—oh. It was a small thing, the being making his comment on armorsmithing and then rapping a knuckle on her breastplate, but she found his audacity to be impressive nonetheless.

Anyway. The questions. One at a time.

"You haven't aged a day," Jane said, smoothly lying right through her teeth. She had no idea what aging would even look like for him. "Oh, and the eggheads who make the calendars say it's the year 370. Hmmmm, sur~prise~."

Alright. Two at a time.

Aidenaxk Drazukel

 

[Aidenzak]

While she begins to speak, the odd creature kneels down to look at the floor. He scoops up some sand with the free hand that isn't holding the katana and idly watches as the sand runs from between his fingers and oncw again scatters across the floor. "Yep...sand. This temple...it was originally built on an oasis if you did not know." He rubs his chin. "I suppose thise cute palm trees outside are long gone. A shame, really."

He stands up once more, carefully dusting himself off. The ancient robes he wore were made up of complicated wrappings about his upper body, with a tunic that stopped at around his knees. His shoes were simple leather sandals with leather wrappings that went up to just below his knees. His legs. Overall, it was the ceremonial attire expected of a pharoah sort from the time period that Jane was likely thinking this strange fish man was from. His legs, also having that strange orange and yellow coloring with splotches od purplish blue,

"Wooo....." The tendriled being whistles, his tendrils all twitching slightly as he turns to look at Jane, hand resting on his hip. "370 eh? And humans are still...common, right? Surprised you guys made it this far. I thought for sure the elves would win that gamble. Not that i had a horse in that....racial race." His goal after all, was the extinction of his own kind. He was good at it too.

Suddenly, he seems distracted with the back of his hand, head tilting as he looks at his nails. "The nail polish...held up REALLY well. It's like they just painted it. I still feel quite fabulous for this long in a sarcophogus." He giggles slightly, gaze now once again drifting to Jane. "I suppose an introduction is in order." He then moves to make a formal bow, one arm to his stomach and his other arm outstretched, with one leg forward. As the bow ends, he winks. "I am Aidenaxk. The Elder Tiefling, they used to call me. However, if the stone dogs did their job, you should have abslutely no idea what that means."

Jane